Come back to bed
by On-the-right-road
Summary: A scene in the life of newly-weds Shelagh & Patrick Turner. Shelagh wakes in the middle of the night and finds all is not as it should be...


**_These wonderful characters belong to Heidi Thomas, the BBC, Neal Street Productions and to their real-life custodians, Laura Main & Stephen McGann._**

**_No copyright infringement intended. I am only borrowing them and promise to return them unharmed._**

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It was the soft swish of the door across the carpet which first stirred her senses. Then her mind registered a slight coolness at her back and she instinctively reached behind her. Instead of the solid source of warmth she expected to encounter there was was only empty space. She rolled over, now sleepily aware of her husband's absence, aware that it was this which had probably stolen her from slumber, even though she hadn't heard him get up.

The truth was that within the few short weeks of their marriage she had begun to lose the ability to sleep alone. Their bed - newly bought and delivered in time for their wedding - had come to symbolise the sanctity and the sanctuary of their married life together. Making love with Patrick was now but the sweetest habit and ritual of her new life, as she found herself needing and wanting him in ways she had never before considered. For his part he gave her only what she asked for, content for her to grow into her sexuality at her own pace, grateful that he was the one to witness her awakening desire, her blossoming womanhood.

But more than that was the comfort and closeness which came from being able to curl into each other's arms; after a bout of lovemaking, or at the end of a long day, or when he stole home in the pre-dawn hours after a callout. She wouldn't - _couldn't_ - sleep properly until she heard his key in the lock, heard him pad softly into the bedroom, felt him slip beneath the covers and felt his arms slide around her, after pressing a whispering kiss to her hair.

She often woke first of a morning to find his face still nuzzled in her hair, his arm draped over her hips, his chest pressed to her back. She would lie still and quiet on such occasions, meditating on her blessings, soothed by the gentle susurration of his breath in the shell of her ear.

She sat up now, noticing a faint light under the half-open bedroom door, obviously seeping in from another room off the landing. Her first instinct was to wonder if Timothy had called out in the night and she had failed to hear him. She listened carefully, but rather than the tell-tale rumble of Patrick's voice she heard only a faint whooshing of water, tapering off into the sound of a single running tap.

She swung her legs out of the bed and cinched her dressing gown round her. Padding along the landing she found the bathroom door ajar. Patrick's pyjama-clad back was visible, hunched over the sink, where he was evidently splashing water onto his face.

The sound of the trickling tap covered her footfalls and he started slightly when he felt her hands slip round his waist from behind. She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and lay her cheek against the soft brushed cotton fabric clinging to his back. He shut off the tap, interlacing his cool, clammy fingers through hers and exhaling a soft sigh.

"Come back to bed," she urged in a muffled entreaty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He straightened up, gently prising her fingers from his waist and turning in her embrace. His arms circled round her so that his hands nestled in the small of her back, drawing small circles there. His breath caught as he looked down at her; her hair was tousled from sleep, her eyes half-hooded, her face creased with lines from the sheets. And yet at that moment she had never looked more beautiful to him. The fact that she could be so unguarded, so unself-conscious, so _natural_ around him, was one of the greatest joys he had yet discovered in their marriage. It was one of many which came with each new day, with each new night, as he learned her and she learned him and they learned how to be together.

For her part, since their wedding day she had found that she couldn't stop herself from reaching for him. She had developed a habit - one which he absolutely adored - of constantly fiddling with his clothing, be it his tie or his collar or the buttons of his waistcoat. It was as if she was giving herself an unconscious excuse to keep touching him, a need which she was only just beginning to realise was becoming as elemental as breathing, as necessary as air. Even now she couldn't resist smoothing her palms up the front of his pyjama top. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her touch and she smiled at the thought that it beat so strongly for her.

"You didn't wake me. I was cold without you," she reassured him, eyes twinkling.

"Sorry," he said again. "I couldn't sleep. I think I was woken by a bad dream and I couldn't get back to sleep."

He hesitated and she saw an uncharacteristic reticence in his expression.

"What is it, darling?"

His voice took on a wistful quality. "I was watching you sleep." He brushed a stray lock off her face and tangled a hand in her hair. "You looked so young, so innocent. It made me think..."

A quirk of her eyebrows made him stumble over his words before he pressed on impulsively: "I couldn't help thinking that if you watched me sleep you'd see an old man, one who isn't worthy of your youth and beauty. And I thought: what if you realise it one day and find someone younger, someone who _is_ worthy of you?"

The words sounded ridiculous to his ears even as he spoke them, and the momentary look of hurt which crossed her face made him immediately regret them.

"How could you think that?" she protested quietly. "I married you. I love you. I want you." Her look turned more solemn. "And I want to have a baby with you." The way his eyes liquified at her litany made her feel bold. She was compelled to voice a thought which had been hovering at the back of her mind since the previous day:

"Patrick, it's a good time... I'm at a _favourable_ point in my cycle right now. Please - come back to bed? I want you to make love to me..."

He swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat. Overcome with love and longing, he leant down to press his lips to hers, feeling them part beneath his kiss in equally fervent response. When they pulled back his eyes had darkened several shades, sending another thrill of desire through her. To her surprise she found herself scooped up in his arms as he murmured: "When duty calls..."

He strode with her into their bedroom - nimbly closing the door behind them with his foot - and soon he set about fulfilling her request in earnest...

END

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